


Eleven Years

by One and Five Nines (Obani)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domesticity, M/M, Misunderstandings, NOT endgame compliant, Post-Endgame, argument resolved with sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obani/pseuds/One%20and%20Five%20Nines
Summary: *ENDGAME SPOILERS*After the final battle, Steve comes around to Tony's house. He's not sure how things stand with Tony, but at least Morgan likes him.





	Eleven Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Impala_Chick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/gifts).



> I owe my LIFE to my beta, fluffypanda

“Steve! STEVE!”

As soon as Steve’s heels crunched onto the gravel of Tony’s driveway, he was under attack by a tiny assailant. He prepared for impact, and Morgan Stark tossed herself into his waiting arms. He lifted her like she weighed nothing which, compared with the things Steve had hefted in his life, she did.

“Steve, I got a loos toot,” she announced, then grimaced, showing off every one of her little baby teeth. With her tongue. she managed to get one to shift ever so slightly. “Theee? Ith wiggawee.”

“Wow! I’ll bet the tooth fairy is excited to get one of those nice clean teeth,” Steve crowed. “You do keep those teeth clean, right?”

“Um. I guess. I ‘unno.” Morgan squirmed in Steve’s arms, a clear indication that she wanted to be let down, and Steve lowered her and let her slide back to earth. “Daddy needs you.” She scampered off towards the cabin. Steve followed after Morgan,entering without knocking. 

Morgan said Tony needed him, which meant there was some odd job or housework that Tony couldn’t quite handle just yet. Officially, that’s why Steve kept coming back here, to the point where Tony expected him to just stop by on a regular basis, unannounced. Just to help out around the house, nothing more.

The inside of the cabin was filled with the debris associated with parenting a little girl. Toys were on every surface, but none were on the floor; Tony was very neat, and even a small child wouldn’t stop him from keeping things at least relatively tidy. The rustic wooden posts holding the house up were marred every once in a while with glittery stickers, featuring Barbie and Paw Patrol and -of course- the Avengers. The first floor was open-concept, so the entire space was alight with a soft blue glow emanating from the holographic display of Tony’s workstation in the corner. That’s where Tony was standing, focused hard on his current project.

The damage Tony had sustained during the battle had been permanently carved into his body. Deep, angry looking scars snaked from Tony’s shoulder all up and down his torso and marred the right side of his face. The energy from the snap had taken much of his right arm. In the weeks since, a state of the art prosthetic, glittering red and gold, had taken its place. Tony seemed too absorbed in his work to pay Steve any mind.

The way Tony was looking at his work, frustrated, reminded Steve harshly that the damage wasn’t all on the outside. His mind, which was once sharp as flint, had dulled. At the very least, he wasn’t brilliant in the same way. Steve couldn’t imagine what it must be like, to have once been so special and to now be taken down a few pegs. It must have been torture for Tony.

Morgan practically dragged Steve to the kitchen before he had a chance to get Tony’s attention. 

“Lookit! I drawed a picher,” she exclaimed, and gestured to her handiwork. A drawing of five figures, all of whom were in possession of odd numbers of limbs and facial features, had been tacked to the fridge with magnets. 

“Looking pretty good, Morgan,” Steve said. “Who’s it of?”

Morgan pointed to each in turn. “That’s you and Daddy and me and Mommy and Josh.”

“Josh?”

“Pepper’s new boyfriend.” Tony wandered into the kitchen area, apparently giving up on his project. “I guess it’s serious if he’s made the fridge.” Tony scowled. “You’d think building her that armor and -oh yeah- saving the goddamn universe might fix our marriage, but I guess not.”

Steve felt an icy pit in his stomach, and he turned back to face the fridge as he asked, “Is that what you want?”

“I guess, I dunno.” Tony mumbled quietly, then coughed and spoke at a normal volume. “What I want is for the sink to stop leaking. I can’t seem to get myself under the damn thing, and I’m still getting used to this.” Steve turned to see Tony flexing his golden fingers stiffly.

“Bucky says it’ll be like your own arm before you know it.”

Tony stalked away, grumbling, almost too quietly to hear, “Coming from a guy who hasn’t had his own arm in 90 years.”

Steve fixed the sink while Morgan sat at his side, handing him the tools he needed and telling him stories about her imaginary friends and the cartoons she saw that day. It was nice that at least one Stark was excited to see him.

“Think you’re ready for dinner, Morgan?” Steve asked, setting his wrench down and pulling himself out from under the sink.

“Mmm, yeah I’m wanna Cheeseburgers.” Morgan agreed, bouncing up happily.

“Cheeseburgers? How about some vegetables?”

Morgan pulled a face. “Bleh! No way! Cheeseburgers and nuu vegetables.”

Steve replaced the tools in the toolbox. “Okay. I’ll see if we have the ingredients for burgers, and you go tell your daddy. Sound good?”

“Yeh Cappin!” Morgan gave a sloppy salute and scurried off to find Tony.

After putting the toolbox back under the sink where he found it, Steve started looking in the freezer for ground beef, or beef that could be ground, but found nothing. He might have enough time to go to the store-

Tony walked in, Morgan on his heels.

“You still here?” He said coolly, and Steve tried not to take it personally. Even Rhodey complained he was having trouble getting through to Tony since his recovery.

“I thought I’d make dinner.” Steve kept his tone light, trying to subtly let Tony know that he wasn’t going to goad Steve into a fight. Not today.

“Morgan and I haven’t starved to death yet,” Tony snapped. “I can still feed myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t- I just want to help.” Steve kept his chin down and let his shoulders slump as he spoke. If he didn’t consciously downplay his size, he could easily come across as aggressive when he really didn’t need to. This was a scenario where he really didn’t need to.

“Steve don’t pull that ‘oh I’m really just a tiny artist on the inside’ shit with me.”

Steve winced and straightened. Tony could always see right through him.

“Alright. How about you don’t pull the ‘I feel vulnerable so I’m going to lash out at everyone’ shit with me?” So much for not being goaded into a fight. “I’m just saying, I kinda wrote the book on it.”

Tony set his jaw and inhaled sharply. 

When he spoke, though, it was to Morgan, and his voice stayed light and sweet. “Hey, sweetie-bug, wanna go upstairs and play toys while Daddy makes dinner?”

With an “Okay, Daddy.” Morgan was gone, and Steve and Tony were alone. Steve braced himself. Things might get ugly, but at least they’d finally be talking.

Silence wound tightly around them while Steve waited for Tony to speak.

“Why do you keep coming by, Rogers?” Tony’s left fist clenched and his right fingers twitched mechanically.

Steve ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Everyone’s worried about you Tony--you’re cutting us off, and I just want to know you’re okay. I really just want to help.”

“I don’t think you do.” Tony sneered. “I think you see me now, with my estranged wife and my old, broken body and you think that makes me desperate enough now to actually _fuck you_.”

All the air seemed to rush out of the room. Steve stumbled back against the kitchen counter. He had not expected… how long had Tony known that Steve was in love with him?

God, Tony could _always_ see right through him.

“I’m not-” Steve began, but didn’t know how to finish. “I don’t-”

“Put the goddamn torch down already.” Tony wasn’t raising his voice- that might have upset Morgan- but he may as well have been screaming in Steve’s face. Steve might have preferred that, actually. At least then there would be some sense he cared. Instead, Tony kept his distance and his tone cold. 

“I mean, really, pining for _eleven years_?” He hissed. “Coming around here to play Florence Nightingale? It’s _pathetic_. It’s so pathetic.”

Ice seeped into him, the same exact way it had when the cockpit of the Valkyrie had filled with frigid water all those years ago. He couldn’t feel anything but cold, and couldn’t think of anything to say. He couldn’t remember any words at all. His body turned itself and headed out the front door; being near Tony was freezing him to his bones.

Once outside, it was like a switch flipped. Tony had known all this time how desperately badly Steve wanted him, and the only time he bothered to bring it up was to use it as a weapon. The ice in Steve’s veins boiled. What the hell did Steve see in Tony anyway, if he did something like that? Everything disappeared in a red haze as his hold on his self control finally ruptured and he kicked a massive hole in Tony’s porch railing.

His hand shook ass he grabbed the handle to his car door hard enough that the metal crunched in his fist. That was more than enough to force Steve to admit shouldn’t drive like this.

Steve jogged along the shore of Tony’s lake, pointedly not looking back until he was certain he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Tony’s house. Once he felt he’d put enough distance between himself and his problems, he found a dry patch of dirt and sat down. Idly, he skipped rocks over the surface of the water and tried to focus on the ripples and the silence and the rapidly disappearing sun, and not think of anything else.

How long had Tony known?

The next rock skimmed across the lake and shook the trees it hit on the other side.

When he heard footsteps approaching, Steve didn’t look up. The familiar gait filled him with a dizzying mixture of emotions. He skimmed another stone, as if Tony wasn’t standing right behind him.

“Now imagine you throw that rock and it just won’t stay gone. That’s how I feel.”

Anger bubbling to the surface of the mixture. Steve shot to his feet and dusted himself off. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” Now it was his turn to be cold.

“Shit, wait, that came out wrong.” Steve felt a hand on his arm, and he turned to see Tony looking at him. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes almost looked shiny, but that might just have been the reflection from the setting sun. He seemed to mull over his words for a while, before finally saying, “You… um, you’ve got to tell Morgan goodnight or she won’t sleep.”

With a sigh, Steve nodded.

They walked back to the house silently, and Steve was left wondering if Tony just didn’t know how to apologize, or if he was trying to formulate a plan to break off their friendship that didn’t result in the two of them not speaking for seven years. Steve wasn’t even sure he needed Tony to apologize, and that made him feel worse. Maybe Tony was right- he was pathetic.

When they got to the broken porch, Tony shot Steve a glare, but it didn’t have any heat to it, and a smile played at the corner of his mouth. Despite himself, Steve felt his heart swell. It looked like they were going to stay friends after all, and maybe it was pathetic, but Steve wanted that. God after seven years exiled from his presence, he wanted more than anything to stay close to Tony.

When Steve came upstairs, he found Morgan settled in her bed looking expectantly up at him.

“You dint say goobye.” She said imperiously, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. She was so much like Tony sometimes.

“I didn’t have to say goodbye because I didn’t leave!” Steve explained, sitting on the edge of her bed. “You only say goodbye when you leave.”

“Okay, well I hope you never say goodbye.” Morgan said simply, as if that was the easiest thing in the world.

Steve ruffled her hair and pulled her blanket over her. “I’ll do my best, bud. Good night.”

He gave her a kiss on her forehead and flipped the lights off on his way out of the room.

Tony waited for him out in the hall. He looked like he had by the lake, as if he was unsure of what to do. It was always so unsettling to see him without his usual mask of confidence. 

“Hey uh-” he began, and his eyes darted furtively around the hallway. His tongue flicked out briefly to wet his lips and he continued, “I thought of one more thing I need you to do.”

Steve sighed, thinking regretfully of the porch railing. It’d only be fair for Tony to ask him to fix it. “Yeah?”

But instead of assigning him more work, Tony took him by the hand and led him across the hall into his bedroom. He looked up at Steve with his dark, thick-lashed eyes.

“Let me apologize.” He laid a hand against the side of Steve’s face.

Tony then proceeded to apologize Steve flat into the mattress.

Afterward, when Steve was on his back, well-fucked and glistening with both his and Tony’s sweat, all he could say- could _pant_ was “Apology accepted.”

Tony laughed. It sounded like music, like the best sound in the world.

“Really though,” Tony began. He started smiling, but his mouth soon flattened into a somber line. “I was out of control back there.”

Steve rolled over to look at him. Tony huffed, almost as if he was in pain, and didn’t say anything for a while. It was alright. Steve felt like he could wait forever for anything Tony had to say.

“Lately I’m just frustrated. Things are hard. I get confused.” Tony’s voice wavered and then broke over his next words. “I wake up now and I don’t know what kind of man I’m going to wake up as. It’s not an excuse…”

“Tony it’s fine. Really.” Steve replied. The snap had scrambled his brain, and it was a miracle Tony could even speak these days. The fact that he was lucid enough to be aware of his mood swings put Tony miles ahead of the last person Steve had loved.

Tony propped himself up on his elbows and stared inscrutably at Steve. “What am I gonna do with you, Babe?” He muttered.

Steve grinned. “The sex is good. You could do more of that.”

Tony laughed again. “Okay, Steve,” He said with a smile, the kind of smile that sent Steve’s heart a-flutter. “I can do that. I can-”

Tony stopped mid-sentence, sadness clouding his expression. “I think I need a lot more help.” Tony admitted. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “I need a lot more help than I’m getting, but I can’t ask-” His voice hitched and he stopped talking.

“Tony, you can ask.” Steve said. “You don’t have to ask. Just let me help you.”

“I want to.” Tony said, his eyes sparkling again, only this time the sun was long gone. “I’ve always wanted to I just-”

“Get frustrated and confused.” Steve finished.

“Yeah.” Tony agreed.

“Don’t you mean ‘yeh Cappin!’?”

Tony snorted. “Yeh Cappin. Yeah I do.”

Tony curled into Steve’s body, and Steve wrapped his arms around him. Maybe it was pathetic, but Steve thought that this, being close to Tony now, was more than enough for him.

This was well worth waiting eleven years.


End file.
